


Fascinating New Thing

by fieryphrazes



Series: fieryfemlock [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Female John Watson, Female Sherlock Holmes, Female Sherlock Holmes/Female John Watson, Friends to Lovers, Genderbending, Genderswap, Inexperienced Sherlock Holmes, Misogyny, Past Relationship(s), Songfic, Virgin Sherlock Holmes, although this is not an explicit fic, or lack thereof, submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryphrazes/pseuds/fieryphrazes
Summary: “I don’t care if you’ve never fallen in love, or dated anyone worthwhile, or, I don’t know, had a hickey. It could not matter less.”Sherlock realized she was holding her breath, and let it out slowly.“I’m just surprised…” Joan thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m surprised that no one has ever told you how incredible you are. That no one’s found you irresistible,” -- here Joan lowered her eyes -- “the way that I do.”As Sherlock reveals more of herself to Joan, she notices things beginning to change. When the relationship develops into something outside Sherlock's comfort zone, she has to decide -- will she allow herself to be seen?





	Fascinating New Thing

Joan shook her head back and forth, back and forth.

“I can’t believe it,” she said softly.

Sherlock’s eyes jerked up, ready to defend herself, if necessary, against the person who knew all her secrets.

“Is it so unbelievable, then?” Sherlock’s voice shook the tiniest bit. “So hard to imagine that other people might want different things than you do? That I enjoy being alone?”

Joan bit her lip and shook her head again, then cleared away the tea.

Joan eyed Sherlock cautiously the next morning, but she didn’t revive the subject. She just handed over the tea – quickly consumed – and a slice of toast, which languished on the coffee table until Joan took pity on it and tossed the stale bread.

More surreptitious glances at a crime scene, Sherlock noted with some annoyance. Joan was always _looking _at her.

That night in the bath, Sherlock dwelled on that very thought. For someone who thrived in a spotlight, she hated being watched. Being observed, being seen – no matter. But watching was different. It reminded her of the men who would drive alongside as she walked home after class – keeping pace with her, a threatening presence, even as they did nothing to escalate. They just watched.

When Joan looked at her, Sherlock froze. Something about her gaze terrified Sherlock – who took great pride in having no fear at all. All it took to make Sherlock quake was a woman with sandy hair, standing five foot four.

Sherlock idly topped off the bath, adding more bubbles as well. Since Joan had outlawed smoking inside the flat, baths had become Sherlock’s refuge. The locked bathroom door kept extraneous stimuli out better than a cloud of smoke ever had.

Perhaps she hadn’t heard the knocking, Sherlock told herself later.

When Joan rapped her hand on the other door – the unlocked one, linking the bathroom to Sherlock’s bedroom – Sherlock nearly jumped out of her skin.

The door cracked open, and Sherlock sank under the bubbles.

“Listen, love, it’s been two hours,” Joan’s voice said, not unkindly. “D’you think it’s about time to wrap this up?”

Sherlock shook her head, only her eyes above water level. Her hair fanned out around her shoulders, the way she’d always imagined a mermaid’s would.

“Guessing that was a no, then,” Joan sighed. “Look, can I come in? I think I know what’s troubling you.”

Sherlock hesitated a moment, then nodded. Joan’s instincts must be improving, because she understood the silent signal and entered the steamy bathroom.

Sherlock watched silently, taking one breath before sinking back down into the water. Joan closed the toilet seat lid and sat down. She waited a moment, but Sherlock didn’t say anything.

“Alright, this may be very self-centered of me,” Joan began, “but I feel like you’ve been distant since our conversation the other night.” Still no comment from Sherlock.

“I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, and relationships aren’t at the top of the list, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I was way off base.”

_Interesting, _Sherlock thought. _She’s rambling: nervous_.

“I didn’t mean to push you into telling me anything you didn’t want me to know,” Joan said, “and I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy.” She took a deep breath.

“Some of the things you said surprised me. Confidence obviously isn’t a problem for you, but I know it’s hard to feel like you’ve disappointed someone you’re close to, so I wanted to make sure you know: I don’t care about any of it.”

Sherlock had been focused on a single tile of the tub, but now her eyes darted to Joan.

“I don’t care if you’ve never fallen in love, or dated anyone worthwhile, or, I don’t know, had a hickey. It could not matter less.”

Sherlock realized she was holding her breath, and let it out slowly.

“I’m just surprised…” Joan thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m surprised that no one has ever told you how incredible you are. That no one’s found you irresistible,” -- here Joan lowered her eyes -- “the way that I do.”

Another shrug, then Joan stood up.

“So, I don’t know if that helps, or if it makes things messier, but I thought I should tell you: you’re lovely, and you’re perfect, and I’m here for good. As long as you want me around.”

Inside of Sherlock, things were cracking into pieces.

Sherlock had intended to leave the bath at some point, but then – that – had happened. Classifying emotions wasn’t her strong suit even at the best of times. Now she found herself overwhelmed.

_Irresistible_, Sherlock thought. _No one’s ever found me irresistible before. Well, none of the good ones._

She shook off the memories of the few bad ones, who had ensconced themselves in her life while she was distracted. She’d thrown them out as soon as she realized they’d infiltrated.

After all, alone protects her. Well, it always had, before.

Sherlock gingerly rolled her sore neck.

A problem for the future, she decided.

“Would you stop already!” Sherlock shouted. Joan looked over curiously from her newspaper.

“Not a genius, so you’ll have to tell me what it is I’m doing,” Joan said dryly.

“Looking at me. Watching me. Like I’m… like I’m some kind of animal you’ve caged up.”

Joan seemed to consider that seriously.

“I’m not aware that I’m doing anything different,” she said carefully. “Have you always felt this way?”

Sherlock shook her head.

“Just the last week or so,” she said quietly. “I can feel your eyes on me. I hate being watched like that.”

Joan was silent for a moment.

“I think what you’re sensing is, um,” Joan turned a bit pink. “A shift in my intentions. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

Sherlock cocked her head curiously.

“Well, you heard what I said the other night, Sherlock.”

She was still confused, and apparently Joan could tell.

“I’m attracted to you,” she explained plainly. “You knew that already.”

Sherlock shook her head.

“No – no – I didn’t know that’s what you meant.”

“Oh, Sherlock.” Joan’s eyes went soft. It made Sherlock’s face burn.

“I would never want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” Joan shook out her newspaper, as if that resolved the issue.

Sherlock felt as if a lightning bolt had hit her, right in the sitting room of 221B.

_What if I don’t want her to stop_, she realized.

Direct action had always appealed to Sherlock. Quick decisions, strong movements. She steeled herself to do the same here.

That’s how she ended up outside Joan’s bedroom door, shortly after she’d gone in to bed.

Sherlock laid a hand flat on the wood, hesitating for a moment before pushing it open.

A wedge of light grew in Joan’s room, lighting up the dresser, then the window, before making it to the foot of the bed. Sherlock slipped in and closed the door behind her.

Joan was sleeping lightly – not in REM yet, Sherlock noted. That meant she’d be less disoriented when Sherlock woke her.

It was supposed to be a tender moment, waking up with an enthusiastic flatmate in her bed; but Sherlock hadn’t even made it halfway across the room when Joan sat up.

“Sherlock?” Joan sounded confused.

“It’s me,” Sherlock confirmed.

“Are you okay? Do I need to get the first aid kit?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Case? Why aren’t you dressed? Did Lestrade call?”

“No,” Sherlock said. “Nothing like that.”

Joan visibly relaxed, sinking back into her pillow.

“What is it, then?”

Sherlock took a deep breath.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she said.

“Stop what?” Joan sounded baffled. Sherlock ran a hand through her hair – things were not going according to plan.

She came to sit next to Joan on the bed.

“I don’t want you to stop watching me,” Sherlock said. “I don’t want you to stop being attracted to me.”

The room stilled – they each held their breath for a moment – then Joan reached for Sherlock’s hand.

“Okay,” she said, with a soft smile.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to take a moment to clarify -- Joan's gaze here is not predatory. This is something Sherlock is struggling with -- her only experiences with attraction have been with men, who were showing predatory behavior towards her. When Joan apologizes and makes it clear that she doesn't want to make Sherlock uncomfortable, Sherlock begins to realize that "being seen" is not an inherently negative thing - so she decides to submit to the ordeal, etc.


End file.
